


A Summer's Day

by colazitron



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is touchable, Louis is handsy. The sun is shining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Summer's Day

**A Summer's Day**

When Louis comes back to their hotel room to pack the rest of his stuff before they have to leave in half an hour, Harry is lying shirtless on the floor, stomach down, in a patch of sunlight. His head is resting on one of the pillows he’s taken from the bed. He looks lazy and comfortable and Louis wants to run his hands through his hair and make him purr like the cat he seems to be channelling.

Harry doesn’t seem to have heard him enter the room and so he closes the door softly and tiptoes over to him, thankful for the ugly carpeting they have on the floor for the first time. He sits down next to Harry and reaches out a hand, trailing a finger along the edge of his boxer’s waistband that peaks out over the typically low-riding trousers he’s wearing. Harry’s skin is warm from the sun and even a little more deeply tanned than the last time they left. If they keep coming back, no one’s gonna believe they’re usually pasty English boys anymore. They’re both so used to soaking up every moment of sunshine they can that they’re sporting impressive tans already and it’s only the middle of July.

Harry sighs contently and Louis knows he’s not asleep so he takes it as permission to run his fingers over his back, following the bumps of his spine. A little shiver runs through Harry and goose bumps break out over his skin when Louis pushes his hand up into his hair, following the last vertebrae till the very end. Since Harry’s got the trim for their video, his hair seems even curlier to Louis. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but he likes it anyway. He grabs a hand full of the thick brown strands and lets his fingers glide through them, enjoying the soft feel of it against his hand. It’s not entirely the same as petting a cat, but it comes close enough. And while Harry can’t purr, there’s the sweetest smile playing along his lips and it’s more than enough for Louis.

“You’re being very handsy,” Harry rumbles, the words sounding slurred as his face is still half pressed into the pillow.

“You’re being very touchable,” Louis quips effortlessly and Harry’s chuckle shakes his shoulders a bit.

“Am I?” he asks, rolling onto his back and blinking up at Louis a bit dazedly.

“Yep. You should really reconsider that.”

“I don’t mind you touching me though,” Harry grins and he’s not too sleepy to make that dirty yet.

“I should hope not,” Louis snorts and lets Harry hook one of his long fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and pull him down to kiss. Louis knows he’s going to sleep on the plane like this: he thinks that Harry tastes like sunshine. What the fuck is that supposed to mean even?

He doesn’t get to think about it in greater detail, because Harry grabs hold of one of his arms and pulls him down further onto his naked chest, before rolling them over so he’s the one hovering over Louis. Louis in turn pushes his hands into Harry’s hair, following the line of his cheekbones and holds his curls back. They tickle when they brush his face and right now all he wants to do is kiss Harry lazily. Harry runs a hand along his side, before pushing it up under his t-shirt, putting it right over where his heart is beating and Louis smiles into the kiss. Harry is incredibly cheesy and it delights Louis to tease him about it. Secretly - or not so secretly, since it had taken Harry little more than a week to figure it out - he loves it. He loves that Harry treats him like he’s precious and he loves that he’s got his hands on him all the time. They’re big and soft and hardly ever actually grab him. Instead it’s more like he’s cradling him, something that Louis sometimes thinks should maybe offend him but actually just makes him feel appreciated and comfortable.

And it’s not like Harry and he never get rough with each other, if you catch the drift. That’s when his large hands really come in useful. It’s not like Louis’ are that much smaller, but Harry’s are just a tad bigger than his - courtesy of the one or two inches he’s got on Louis. He’s always been taller, ever since they met at boot camp, but back then it had been barely noticeable. Over the last year though, Harry’s changed. He’s grown the odd inch or two (or maybe even three) and he’s lost quite a bit of weight, opting to join Liam in his gym routine. He’s always been fit but now he’s toned up. His once mostly smooth stomach now has the tell tale ridges of slightly defined abs and his biceps and triceps and whatever other ceps were to be found in upper arms were definitely more developed than when they met.

Harry pulls back and smiles down at him for a moment.

“You still need to finish packing and I still need to get dressed,” he says then.

“Urgh. Do we have to?”

“Yes.”

Louis pouts and Harry kisses it off his lips before sitting back up and linking his hands behind his back, stretching and bowing his spine to get out the cricks from lying on his stomach and then leaning over Louis. Louis for his part watches the shift of muscles over bones from his vantage point on the floor and winks at Harry when he catches his eye.

“And people say I’m the cheeky one.”

“I hide it better,” Louis grins before getting up from the floor and walking over to his side of the room, throwing the rest of his clothes into the suitcase. For the next ten minutes they dance around the room and each other, checking every nook and cranny for things they could have possibly missed. With five minutes left, Louis decides to change into one of his onesies - yeah, they are slightly ridiculous, but they’re also ridiculously comfy and he’s about to spend eleven hours on a plane - rucking up the pant legs to around his knees and leaving the zipper over his chest open as low as he feels comfortable with. At least he won’t get cold on the ridiculously air conditioned plane.

“Ready?” Harry asks, just as he’s zipping up his suitcase. Harry’s already standing by the door, a hand resting on the handle of his own suitcase, laptop bag slung over the other shoulder, his new headphones around his neck. There’s a very light tan line over his face where his aviators usually sit - no doubt stored in their box in his bag - and the t-shirt he’s put on ends just high enough to offer a peak of the bold Armani lettering on his underwear. He looks good.

“Yeah,” Louis confirms, lifting his suitcase off the bed and following Harry out the door and down the corridor to the elevator. Harry’s bag threatens to slide off his shoulder, so he pulls it up again, pulling up his t-shirt with the movement and exposing a sliver of slightly paler skin low on his back. It taunts Louis all the way down the corridor and when they’re standing alone in the elevator, he reaches out a hand and trails a finger over it. Harry smiles at him fondly and pulls his t-shirt down and when the elevator doors open to the lobby, they step out and walk up to the others an appropriate distance apart.

**The End**


End file.
